Saturday, December 19, 1988 London

Professor Severus Snape glanced around, trying to hide his nervousness as his sipped his tea. He wasn't used to being around so many Muggles at one time. Wizards thought Diagon Alley was crowded in December and August; that was nothing compared to the crowds in Harrods two Saturdays before Christmas.

He did wonder, though, why his cousin had ordered "Tea. Earl Grey. Hot," and the waitress had laughed, and then saluted her with a split fingered gesture.

"This was a lovely surprise, running into you, Sev," Leona Snape said.

They had, quite literally, run into each other in the crowded aisles of Harrods. Lee had insisted on him joining her for a cuppa and a sandwich. "I wish you'd phoned you were coming down. Lin and I could have put you up on the sofa, saved you the price of a hotel room."

Snape sipped his tea to give himself an excuse not to answer for a moment. He had apparated from Hogwarts to London, and had planned to go back the same way after he'd finished his shopping and indulged in a Muggle cinema. Of course, he could not say so to Lee. She assumed he'd taken the train down, and would be returning to Scotland the same way. A five hour journey or more, one way - naturally, she'd assume that he'd stay overnight in London.

"I shouldn't want to intrude on you and your ... flatmate."

"Is there any chance of your coming down again during the Christmas hols? Lin and I are having a video party New Year's Eve. We'd love to have you," Lee told him.

"A video party?" Snape had no idea what that was.

Lee nodded. "We're going to watch Jeremy Brett all night. We'll probably switch over to a New Year's celebration broadcast just before midnight, but other than that, it'll be Sherlock Holmes until the wee small hours of the morning."

"Jeremy Brett?" Normally, Snape didn't mind the fact that one couldn't watch television at Hogwarts, but where Jeremy Brett was concerned, he made an exception. He did a swift mental calculation. New Year's Eve would be on a Saturday this year, so it shouldn't be that hard to arrange the weekend off-duty. He could put up with a few hours of Muggle company for the chance to watch Sherlock Holmes. "Thank you; I should be very pleased to come."

Lee laughed. "Sev, so formal. You sound like one of the characters in my books."

"Are you still teaching, or are your books doing well enough to let you be a full-time writer?" Snape asked. His cousin wrote Regency romances.

"Still in the classroom. The books are selling, but not well enough to quit my day job," Lee told him. "Teaching is theoretically a form of enlightened self-interest. If I encourage them to be literate and develop in them a love of the printed page, then I build future readers."

"I hope your students are not as big a group of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

"Dunderheads?" Lee chuckled at the epithet. "Are that really that bad?"

"It's not so bad with the older ones. They're taking my class because they choose to, and they either have an interest in the subject or the self-discipline to work at it because they know it will benefit them after graduation. But the younger ones - the first-years and second-years ..." He shook his head.

"I thought you taught chemistry. Are you teaching general science, too?"

"I'm stretched thinner than I like," Snape hedged. He had forgotten that at a Muggle boarding school, students would not take chemistry every year. And with all students taking Potions class the first five years, and N.E.W.T. students taking it sixth and seventh year, he was stretched thinner than he liked.

"When I started teaching, I wanted to mold young minds, help them develop a love of literature, teach them the joy of creating writing. Now," she sighed, "I'd be satisfied if they indented their paragraphs and could tell its and it's apart."

December 25, 1990, Hogsmeade

"And David the king begat Solomon of her that had been the wife of Uriah, and Solomon begat Roboam; and Roboam begat Abia; and..."

Professor Snape sat on the cold, hard pew of St. Wealdburg's, only paying half-attention as the vicar droned on and on, reading the genealogy from the Gospel of St. Matthew. Roboam, he remembered, had twenty-eight sons and sixty daughters. Anti-acne potion took sixty rose petals to brew properly.

"Jechonias begat Salathiel; and Salathiel begat Zorobabel; and Zorobabel begat Abiud; and Abiud begat Eliakim..."

There was a boy named Zorobabel Jefferson in Hufflepuff. Snape wondered if his parents were especially devout, or if they just didn't like him much. Could be worse - the Blacks were downright cruel to their offspring in their choice of names. But then, Severus was nothing to brag about either. His name had been the cause of considerable teasing both in Muggle primary school and here at Hogwarts, especially the way Potter had transformed it into Snivellus. And next year he'd have Potter's brat to deal with - next year he should definitely arrange to take a fortnight's holiday come Christmas.

"Amen."

Snape realized that the people around him were standing up and reaching for hymnals. Hastily, he did likewise.

"Adeste Fideles laeti triumphantes, venite, venite in Bethlehem. Natum videte, Regem Angelorum."

Several of the students he had escorted to St. Wealdburg's glanced up at him, startled. The fact that Severus Snape had a rich, dulcet singing voice was known to very few. But then, most of the students knew very little about Snape's private life and opinions, and what little they thought they knew was wrong. Dead wrong.